The Chicken

At the start of every week for more than four months, I’ve taken the Hume Highway from Melbourne to Shepparton. Just as I pass Clonbinane (one hour north of Melbourne), a hill looms directly in front of me.

One day, I got a lift with Paul, my boss. When this hill appeared before us, he said, “Ah! There’s the chicken! I always look forward to seeing the chicken.”

I was startled. “I always thought it looked like a chicken too! I never mentioned it.”

“Well, Nat and Katie knew about it,” Paul said, naming the two work colleagues Jamie and I replaced on this Shepparton job. “Katie always said, ‘Have you seen the chicken yet? You know you’re halfway to Shepp when you see the chicken.’ “

I was quite pleased. So I wasn’t the only one.

The next week, Jamie was driving me up.

“Look,” I pointed. “There’s the chicken.”

“What?!” Jamie said. “Have we talked about this?”

“No, I talked about it with Paul last week. Every week I’ve been seeing this chicken and he says that he, Nat and Katie have noticed it too.”

“Well, so have I,” said Jamie. “I keep forgetting to mention it when we’re driving.”

A month later, Erin joined us on the job and was introduced to the chicken. The chicken photo on this blog entry is thanks to her efforts in the car. It’s a good farewell present.

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